Duty(31)

Thankfully, my answer satisfies him, and he goes back to car watching. I brought some DVDs for later, but I don't want to put up with four days of kiddie movies playing in my back seat, so I'm holding off on those as long as I can.

We stop for dinner at six o'clock, and I let him indulge with a cheeseburger, but I make sure he doesn't have any of the ice cream he was trying to get. I don't need him on a sugar rush in the back of the car, going off until midnight. A quick trip to the bathroom and a fresh set of training pants—he's doing his best to hold it, but I don't expect him to be perfect on this road trip—and we're back on the road again.

The monotony causes Lance to start squirming, but he settles in when I put in the first of the DVDs I brought along, the backseat screen helping him nod off even before his favorite characters enter the magic castle. I turn the DVD off and put on some music, keeping it mellow and low. I'm looking forward to this month. It's been hard being a single mom. Having a full month to be nothing but Mom . . . I’m looking forward to it.



“Oh my God, it's so good to see you!” Petie, my best friend from high school, says as she comes up the walkway of my parent's house and we hug. “It's been what, three years? Four, even?”

“Just about,” I agree, giving her a squeeze. Growing up, Petie and I became fast friends, and the years since haven't changed that much. “How're you doing?”

“Nice to see you again, Petie,” Dad says, interrupting us and lowering his newspaper. “Behaving yourself?”

“Not at all, Mr. Morgan,” Petie jokes. “I've toned it down some for Tim though. Can't quite get up to all my old tricks.”

“Hmm. If you two would like, you can have some privacy on the back deck,” Dad says, still smirking. He's always liked Petie, who he says spent so much time over here with me that he was thinking he adopted a second daughter. “Enjoy your catch-up time.”

We stop by the kitchen first, where I grab a couple of wine coolers for us and we sit down, enjoying the sun. “Cheers.”

“What, the Army doesn't force you to drink beer any longer?” Petie asks, clinking bottles with me. “And to your health. Seriously, though, you do look good.”

I take a sip and lean back, enjoying the sun on my face. “Keep it up, Petie. I haven't had anyone compliment me in too damn long. I can use the ego stroke.”

Petie shakes her head and sips at her bottle, setting it down. “Sounds like you need more than your ego stroked. Still running dry, huh?”

I nod, closing my eyes. “Thanks for the Christmas gift, by the way. And thank you even more for the heads up so that I didn't open it in front of Lance. God knows how I explain a vibrator to a three-year-old. You still rocking Tim's world on the regular?”

“Damn right. I may be heavier than when we got married, but he's not complaining,” Petie says, rubbing her curvy hip a little, then she sighs. “Mind if I take things serious though?”

“Go ahead, figured we'd get around to the deep shit eventually.”

Petie nods and sits back, relaxing. “You like the Army?”

I chuckle and take another drink. “Sorry, just that my old battalion commander asked me kind of the same question when I signed out at Lewis. He was asking if I'm going to re-up. My enlistment's coming up in about a year. I told him the same thing I'll tell you. I just don't know. It's been good to me for sure. I've gotten good care for Lance, and they even let me finish out my degree online. I can't fault them for that.”

“Yeah . . . I guess that's a good thing. And you do look good, that isn't just my repressed lesbian side coming out,” Petie jokes. “Seriously, you're a head turner, girl.”

“That's not getting heads to turn,” I gripe, sighing. “Or at least not the right ones.”

Petie hums, sipping at her drink. “Hard to find single guys who want to date a soldier with a little boy.”

“I get some that are interested,” I say with a dark chuckle. “Guys who want a quick ride in the sack, but they don't want a thing to do with Lance. And never mind actually having a real date.”

“I kind of figured. I mean, the past four years you've told me about a date what, five times?” Petie asks. “Even Mother Theresa dated more than you are.”

“I won't have a man who isn't interested in being involved with Lance too,” I answer, not angry but just convinced. “I already short change him a lot in terms of my time. If I leave the Army, that's going to be why. A three-year-old shouldn't be away from his mother for twelve hours a day, Monday through Friday. If a man can't handle that part of me, then he doesn't get the rest of me.”

Petie gives me a supportive smile, nodding. “Good. Can I ask, though, is there another reason, maybe? Washington may not be New York City, but there are still a lot of guys out there. There has to have been at least one who was a good man.”

“I’m sure there’s one out there. But I didn’t meet one if so.”

“You mean one compared to him,” Petie says, not mentioning Aaron's name. I never told her, but one night of sobbing comfort on my trip from New York to Washington, I told her everything else. Petie's a smart woman, and she knows me about as well as I know myself, maybe better sometimes. “Almost four years now. He's either graduated or he's a civilian. Have you ever thought about reaching out to him?”